


your heart may long

by cori_the_bloody



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Between Episodes, Canon Compliant, ClexaWeek2017, F/F, One Shot, i'll leave the decision on whether or not this could have happened in canon up to you, sexual tension you could cut with a knife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 17:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10037225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cori_the_bloody/pseuds/cori_the_bloody
Summary: Clarke and Lexa get caught in a tight space while trying to escape the acid fog.Set between Survival of the Fittest and Coup de Grace. Written forclexa week 2017day 3: stuck together





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Word Count:** 2,160  
>  **Author's Note:** thanks a million to my beta, [ravenrxyes](http://ravenrxyes.tumblr.com/), who read this and gave spectacular suggestions even though she's got a lot going on. i love her.

It’s only been a day—too soon to really be sure— but Clarke thinks she’s noticed a difference in the way the Commander’s behaving around her. Since they fought _Pauna_ together, there’s something hesitant about the way Lexa moves when in her presence and Clarke finds her heart beating faster whenever her eyes land on her, a response to the new tenderness in her stare.

Intrigued as she is by this shift, Clarke can’t say no when Lexa invites her on a day trip into the woods.

“I know you are needed back at your camp soon,” Lexa says as they ride off to the northwest of Tondc, an area Clarke hasn’t explored much. “However, I figured it beneficial to discuss our plans moving forward before we part for a handful or days.”

“Um, sounds good, but shouldn’t we have our maps handy? Shouldn’t we open up discussion to the others?”

“Sometimes the presence of too many opinions hinders progress,” Lexa says.

Clarke grunts and glances back at the members of the Commander’s guard that are following them at a distance. No one seems to have permanently replaced Gustus as Lexa’s close confidant and primary protector.

Following that thought, her eyes move to Lexa, who’s sitting ramrod straight in her saddle. With her chin tilted high and her flowing hair, it’s easy to imagine her as royalty in another world—a gracious queen of times long past.

When she realizes what she’s doing, Clarke coughs softly and asks, “So where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll know when we arrive.”

“You’re a real pain in the ass sometimes, you know that?”

Lexa glances back at Clarke, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

“Clarke kom Skaikru, on the other hand, is always cordial and accommodating.”

Though she tries to maintain her unamused frown and narrowed eyes, Clarke can’t help but break into a smile. “Yeah, yeah, point taken.”

They ride in quiet for several minutes, enjoying the warm, dappled sunlight and the dense musk of pine in the air. When the trees start to thin around them and the littering of rocks and dead needles on the ground give way to tall lush grass, Lexa slows and then dismounts.

Once her horse is secured and grazing, she removes a pouch that’s hanging from her waist belt and approaches an oak tree with a thick trunk. She paints a large, white X into the bark and then turns to raise her eyebrows at Clarke.

“Target practice,” Clarke says, understanding, and gets off her own horse.

Lexa nods once. “The best warriors know that brawn alone is not enough. One must consistently hone their skills.”

“I really shouldn’t waste bullets,” Clarke worries.

“That’s why you will not be practicing with a gun. We know you’re capable with weapons of that nature.”

“So…what do you want me to do? Punch the tree?”

Lexa removes a knife from a sheath attached to her saddle and comes to stand beside Clarke.

“Got it,” she says, accepting dagger and turning it over in her hands. The handle is smooth, round, and ebony, curling comfortably in the palm of her hand. The blade is thinner than the one on Lexa’s, coming to a sharpened point that catches the sun.

“Having both long- and short-range weapons at your disposal is useful in battle,” Lexa explains, “watch me.”

Of course she throws her knife with pinpoint accuracy, releasing the weapon with a high-pitched battle cry and nailing the tree just above the center of the X.

Once she’s retrieved it, she nods at Clarke. “Now you try.”

Clarke does her best to emulate the Commander, taking a deep breath before lobbing the dagger at the oak tree. It hits hilt first and glances off.

She frowns.

“It was your first time. That’s to be expected,” Lexa consoles. “Try again. I’m going to watch your form.”

She jogs over to the tree, picks up her knife, and jogs back before lining up the shot again. This time, the dagger sticks in the bark near the upper right line of the X, but it doesn’t lodge there, falling to the ground seconds later.

“Once more,” Lexa says.

With a sigh, Clarke runs to get the knife and returns. This time, when she raises her hand, Lexa steps up behind her, so close Clarke can feel her breath on her cheek.

She’s suddenly more aware of many things, from the guards watching somewhere in the trees to the way Lexa’s long fingers feel cool and rough with calluses as she wraps them around Clarke’s wrist.

“Spread your legs,” Lexa says.

“Wh-what?”

“Your stance is too narrow.”

“Oh, right,” Clarke says, planting her feet further and further apart till Lexa makes an affirming noise in the back of her throat.

“Now,” Lexa says, draping her right arm loosely around Clarke’s waist and causing goosebumps to pimple along Clarke’s arms. She’s grateful that she’s wearing a jacket and Lexa won’t notice. “Align your hips to the direction you’re throwing.”

She gulps and makes herself pliable, allowing Lexa to direct her stance.

“Relax your shoulders,” she continues, her voice low and soothing in Clarke’s ear. “Take a deep breath.”

They draw in air at the same time, their chests rising in synch.

“Let it out as you release the dagger with a flick of your wrist.”

She steps back, but, for a second, Clarke remains frozen, poised to throw and waiting as the heat from Lexa’s body fades. Then she exhales, flinging the dagger toward the target.

It hits left of center, but it stays stuck in the trunk this time.

“Nicely done,” Lexa praises.

Clarke feels a warmth work itself up from the pit of her stomach and into her cheeks. “Thanks for the demonstration.”

Lexa smirks and then goes to line up her own shot. “Now I was hoping to get your opinion on something.”

“Sure,” Clarke says as she admires the way sunlight dances off Lexa’s eyelashes when she closes her eyes and breathes deep.

It’s not like she hasn’t noticed it before, how beautiful Lexa is. But here in the middle of the woods, the effect is magnified by her relative ease. It’s almost like Clarke’s catching a glimpse of Lexa…not _Heda_ , but the girl buried under the title.

Her heart leaps.

She’s quickly jarred out of the moment, though, because just as Lexa’s about the release the knife, the acid fog horn echoes through the air.

Though she should be well practiced when it comes to responding to emergencies by now, Clarke freezes. The Commander, on the other hand, springs into action. She slices through the reins on both their horses—setting them free to escape the fog—and then runs past Clarke toward the broader clearing in the woods.

“Follow me!”

Not needing to be told twice, she takes off sprinting, following Lexa across the tall grass.

Even though she knows she shouldn’t, she turns and looks behind her when they get to the other side. About 20 meters away, clouds of yellow-green acid roll quickly through the trees, closing in on them.

“Clarke, this way!”

Snapping herself out of it, Clarke follows the sound of Lexa’s voice further into the forest. She catches sight of her just in time to watch the Commander clamber down a rocky slope and then slosh through a small stream. Clarke’s sure her eyes are playing tricks on her when Lexa seemingly disappears into the steep, muddy bank on the other side, but once she’s closer she notices a tunnel that cuts directly into the earth. She has to get on her hands and knees to climb inside.

“Move one of the boulders in front of the entrance,” Lexa’s voice cuts through the darkness, though she’s further away than Clarke would have expected for such a tiny space.

She’s able to roll a large enough rock into the mouth of the tunnel before any acid can curl inside.

As she settles on her butt and tries to spin around, hoping to gauge how much room she actually has, a small fire ignites. Clarke yelps in surprise.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Lexa apologizes. She’s sitting cross-legged at the end of the tunnel, which widens ever so slightly to form a little bubble of space. It’s not much, but at least Clarke won’t have to strain her back while they wait for the fog to dissipate.

“What is this place?” she asks, crawling over to Lexa and settling next to her. Their knees bump, and Clarke licks her lips.

“An old hideout of mine,” Lexa says, as if that’s any explanation at all.

Clarke leans her head against the earth and turns to cock an eyebrow at Lexa, who meets her gaze for a moment before her eyes are drawn down to Clarke’s mouth.

“I was a stubborn child who would not be found when I didn’t want to be,” she elaborates.

“Ah, so this place is _your_ drawing nook on Hydro Station,” Clarke says. Then it’s Lexa’s turn to give her a quizzical look. “I used to sneak away to the room where all our water was cleaned and made drinkable back on the Ark. There was this area behind one of the big, purification tanks that only a small kid could fit into, and I’d go there to draw.”

A soft smile tugs on the edges of Lexa’s lips, and Clarke knows she understands. Then she opens her mouth, hesitates, swallows hard, and tries again.

“I hope,” Lexa says, “that perhaps someday you will show me one of your drawings.”

“You mean one that isn’t a crude map of Mt. Weather that I drew from memory?” Clarke teases.

“Yes,” she says, serious, looking down at her hands. “I’d like to see the drawings that are a product of your passion, your need to put charcoal to the paper. Not the product of war.”

Clarke’s heart thuds, loud and distracting in her ears. “Maybe once I have my people back, I’ll feel inspired.”

Lexa hums in response.

“Hey,” Clarke whispers, though she’s not entirely sure why.

“Yes, Clarke?”

“Do you really think we can do it? Get everyone out of there safe and alive?”

“No one can know an outcome before it comes to pass,” Lexa says.

“But?” she prompts, nudging Lexa with her shoulder.

“But this is the best chance anyone’s had to overthrow the Mountain in a hundred years. That, alone, gives me hope.”

Clarke nods and smiles to herself.

“You, Clarke, are the main reason for that hope,” Lexa adds after they’ve been quiet for some time. “Your determination has served the cause well.”

They turn to look at each in unison. Lexa’s lips part and Clarke’s breath catches in her throat.

For a second, Clarke thinks she’s going to lean in, but instead she speaks again. “We cannot get complacent, though. I fear there is still much sacrifice ahead of us.”

“Right,” Clarke says, noticing for the first time that there’s a pale freckle on Lexa’s upper lip. “Sacrifice and duty and weakness. I got it. I’m listening.”

“No.” Lexa shakes her head, but her eyes stay fixed on Clarke. “No weakness here, remember?”

“None at all,” she says, her voice lacking volume.

When the air is practically crackling around them, completely unbearable, Lexa jerks her head back and scoots ever-so-slightly away from Clarke.

“We should discuss how to present our alliance to the other clan leaders,” she says, suddenly interested in the tiny pebbles stuck in the earth surrounding them. “There is a strong possibility most of them will react negatively.”

“Sure,” Clarke says, “Shop talk.”

Despite her disappointment, it doesn’t take her long to get engaged in the conversation. The most important thing is doing right by her people, after all.

They get a little carried away, and by the time they push the boulder out of the tunnel entrance to see if the acid fog is gone, they find a clear night sky.

“People are probably worried about us,” Clarke says, looking up at the bright stars. You’d think she’d have grown tired of this kind of vista, living in space and all, but the view of the sky from Earth’s surface is her favorite thing about being here on the ground.

“We should get back,” Lexa agrees.

“Lead the way.”

“Shall we take the long way home or move as the crow flies?”

“Well I know the responsible answer,” Clarke says, trailing off and leaving Lexa to guess which one she’d prefer.

Lexa offers up another one of her tender almost-smiles. “We’re not in any danger, and our people will know that whenever we get back to Tondc. Not a moment before.”

Clarke grins back. “The long way it is.”

Lexa’s eyes sparkle, bright as the stars and filled with too much emotion to comprehend, and just like that, Clarke’s heart is racing again.

Though it’s only been a day, Clarke’s sure: everything’s different now.


End file.
